


The sorceress' child

by Hadad (160)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: And I certainly need a beta, Dumbledore thought he was ready, F/M, Harry Potter was Raised by Other(s), I Don't Even Know, No one's ready, Proud Mama Yen, Smart Harry, Still in writing, but he's not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2019-05-15 14:37:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14792366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/160/pseuds/Hadad
Summary: Geralt of Rivia could rembember a few instances in his life when he had to hold a baby. He also recalled that none of these moments were nice experiences.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A few things before starting that are important...  
> \- I'm not a native speaker, and this work is not beta-ed. If you feel up to it, I welcome any help !  
> \- I choose to ignore quite a few plot elements from the games for the story convenience, and I won't use the books plot.  
> \- I hope you will enjoy your reading ! :)

1.

 

 

Geralt of Rivia could rembember a few instances in his life when he had to hold a baby. He also recalled that none of these moments were nice experiences. But here he was again, a wailing young child in his arms.

The light had been blinding, illuminating the forest.  Fortunately  , he wasn’t looking in this direction but Roach, surprised, had startled and bucked  . With a sharp tug on the reins, Geralt has turned around and pushed his horse in a gallop. He didn’t have to go far. The soil  was burned  in a perfect circle between the roots of a great tree, and a baby wailed in its center.

But what could he do with this child ?  Geralt would have  gladly  left him in the care of the first willing family, but the little boy, looking  just  over a year old, reeked of magic  . Not that he knew a lot about children, but this  clearly  wasn’t a normal human approved behaviour. The witcher sighed. At least the kid was calming down, those cries would have attracted wolves, to the least. He shrugged his cape and managed, rather  clumsily , to tie the little body against his armor.

He wasn’t too far from the village where he had to meet Yennefer. She would be a better bet than him to know what to do.

 

* * *

Yennefer prided herself to be a woman of control. She wasn’t moved  easily  and her will was of iron.  But seeing Geralt enter the room she was renting with a young child  carefully  craddled in his arms, an unsure expression on his ragged face and hope in his eyes, she almost dropped her book .

 

— "What did you bring me this time ?" she managed to say, her voice a bit too shaky for her taste.

 

— "Well…" Geralt looked at the baby, then at her. "I found him in the forest, it seemed to be some kind of portal, but no trace of it. Only the kid, crying his lungs out."

 

— "Magic ?"

 

Yennefer left her chair and approached, letting her curiosity take a bit of her.  She extended her hand to touch the tuft of black hair poking out Geralt's cape and recoiled  immediatly .

 

— "Oh yes, magic." She sighed and bite her lips. "A few kinds of magic, even, and none I am familiar with."

 

— "So… What should we do ? I don’t feel like dumping the kid in an orphanage like that. They never have enough. The kids always end up begging in the streets."

 

The sorceress suppressed a shiver at the idea of such a young babe in one of those places, but not a sigh.

She sat on her bed, her fingers running through the heavy bear pelt on the covers. For a few minutes, she observed the sleeping child, still in Geralt’s arms, his dark hair a mop upon his angelic face. Her heart clenched. So many desires battled in her mind, and she wasn’t sure reason would prevail this time.  The opportunity of being a mother, passing her magical knowledge to an heir she might have not carried but still educated, groomed and moulded to her content  . And,  maybe  …  Maybe  Geralt would  be interrested  in being a father figure ? She could convince him.  But seeing as the witcher still hadn’t made a move to put the baby elsewhere than against his chest, it was possible that it would not be necessary . He was cradling him like a precious treasure, slipping worried glances every now and then.

 

— "Last year, I have read a lot about purifications. It is the first step, for me. As it is now, I would not be able to touch him."

 

Geralt looked up, straight in her eyes as he was trying to assess a potential threat. She wasn’t accustomed to having this look thrown to her. The amber eyes seemed to search, assess, calculate. She turned her own and continued :

 

— "Those different magics do not feel like they should. The only fact that there are more than one is troubling, but one of them is  clearly  impure, leech-like. The other is his. It is quite the priority to rid the child of this corruption.  Fortunately, the spell I have in mind does not  require  much material, we have everything on hand."

 

She waited for Geralt to nod and turned to her books.

 

* * *

 

The baby was crying again. Hiccups wrecking his little body, snot and tears marring his crunched up face. Geralt was starting to feel a migraine coming but couldn’t bare the idea to leave the room. He watched as the spell Yennefer was weaving worked around the boy laid on the bear fur.

Strange, how he felt concerned about the wellfare of this child. There were hundreds outside, abandonned by poor families or unwilling mothers. Was it because of the magic ? The sorceress would have felt it if there was a charm on the kid. The strange way they crossed path ? It wouldn't be the fist time he saw something weird.

 

He realised that, since he had the baby in his arms, small and helpless, he hadn’t considered leaving him to anyone except Yen.

 

He knew her, her deep want of a child she could never carry. The pressure of the Lodge keeping her from her desire of family. He thought of Ciri, stuck in Kear Mohren with a pile of old books and under the watchful eye of Vesemir. He smiled. It felt a bit like the first time he met the litlle girl. His conviction grew : neither of them would want to leave this child.

 

Suddenly, the light faded and he raised his eyes to meet his lover’s.  She looked tired, but she approached the whimpering baby with a gentleness he had never  witnessed  and scooped him  tenderly  against her breast. He smiled. Her eyes were alight with something akin to wonder and he knew, for certain, that she would never let go.

 

— "He needs a name", he whispered. "We can’t call him « the baby » forever."

 

Yennefer did not answered  immediatly, her eyes still on the child who was calming, clutching her longs locks in his small hands.

 

— "Yes. He needs a name. But…"

 

— "Don’t. I know you, Yen, and I am more than sure you’ll be a good mother."

 

Her violet eyes shined, and she batted her eyelids, trying not let see him see her tears.

 

— "I can help find one ?"

 

This drew a smile from the sorceress.

 

— "Coming from the man who named  all of  his horses Roach since a century ? I don’t think so, but I allow you a say. Tomasz ?"

 

He curled his lips in distate. Yennefer smiled again, rocking  slightly  back and forth to lull the little boy to sleep. Behind the thick glass of the room's only window, the sunset was casting an orange light and deep shadows. He got up  slowly  to light up the torches.  Outside, they could hear the populace starting to congregate for another night of drinking.

 

— "What about Radomil ?"

 

— "Makes me think of Radovic."

 

— "Right. I… have always liked the name Jaromir."

 

Her hesitation gave a pause to Geralt. It was a curious admission, and he was certain it was not a name given on the  fly. She might have fantasised this name for a long time…

 

— "If it’s too long to pronounce for your prolix nature", she teased, "you can always call him Jarek."

 

He turned to her raising an eyebrow. Of course, he couldn’t respond to her and gave her the right. Yen. He smiled.

 

— "Fine for me. Jaromir it is."


	2. Chapter 2

2.

 

— "This man was so disrespectful !" Ranted a young boy. He seemed to be around seven, but carrying an air of maturity and importance that curiously wasn’t ridiculous. He followed a woman of great beauty, her black hair flowing around the stony expression of her face.

— "Why did you let him lie, Mum ?" Continued the boy, crossing his arms and still managing to keep the pace his mother imposed.

— "Because he will learn very soon that I am not to cross, dear."

She slightly turn her eyes to her son, a discreet smile tugging at her lips.

— "Didn’t you notice what I did, Jaromir ? And don’t walk with your arms crossed, it’s unbecoming."

The boy obeyed and chewed on his lip, thinking.

— "I don’t remember you saying anything about the new border control, but yet, I am not sure this man is aware of it. He never mentioned anything about the Emperor’s new law although his business is affected." (Jaromir smiled, eyes green like emeralds shining in mirth.) "Then I guess you sent him in a burocratic nightmare. Serves him right !"

Yennefer shuffled lightly her son’s hair, proud of him. She was proud of everything. His intelligence, his swift mind, his interest in everything she teached him. And, first of all, his love. Hearing him calling him his mother

As soon as they entered the private part of their home, she drew him in a hug in wich he cuddled without hesitation.

— "As always, dear, you did really good. You will learn the subtleties soon enough."

Her son looked up, a smile lighting his young face. She pushed a wild lock out of his eyes and commented, once again, that she impatiently awaited the moment his hair was long enough to tie them correctly.

They both went to their room to change into more confortable clothes. Jaromir sat at his little desk with the book he was studying and a few sheets of parchment. In a few minutes, he was so concentrated he didn’t hear Yennefer coming.

She watched him work with a soft smile, basking in the feeling of contentment and love she discovered seven years ago. Obviously, it had not be easy. Jaromir needed a wet-nurse and she needed to learn how to reconcile her new status as a mother with her duties as a sorceress and an adviser. She had to fight a long time with her colleagues, answering sharply to each ridicule and doubt. But she showed them, year after year that she could raise this child and still be the dreaded sorceress they knew. The railleries became less frequent as little Jarek charmed his way in the heart of everyone. Even the stoniest and most indifferent of her peers, never noticing his satisfied smile as he did so. Her friend, Triss Merigold, was his first victim and his greatest fan. Ciri was another. First afraid of loosing the affection and attention of her mentor, she was quick to succumb to the boy.

She tightened up the letter in her hand. It was a missive from Geralt. He was passing close to Oxenfurt with his ward and suggested a little reunion. Despite the few words, Yennefer read easily between the lines. The gruff old witcher and the little impertinent were missing dearly her little boy. Her smile widened and she made a few steps in the room.

— "I have a letter for you to analyse, dear."

Jaromir looked up. It was a frequent exercise, to teach him how to decipher the words and motives hidden. He took the piece of paper, noticing first the texture and its state, then moved to the content. It didn’t take long. She found her arms full of an overjoyed child, laughing and babbling.

— "Are we going ? When are we going ? Should we go now ? We should be there before them ! And we could rent the rooms in that inn you like ! And we could, we could… I promise Ciri and I won’t go too close from your room for… for at least three days !"

Yennefer gave in and burst out laughing, remembering perfectly the reason of that promise and the embarrassing talk after that. She carressed Jaromir’s cheek and traced his ecstatic smile with the tip of her fingers.

— "We leave in two days, love. Try to find something productive with that energy of yours in the meantime, will you ?"

Jarek whooped and ran to his closet, carefully selecting everything he wanted to bring during the trip. He felt like bursting with excitment : he hadn’t seen Geralt and Ciri for almost a year ! They had so much to tell each other ! And surely, Ciri would teach him new tricks in Geralt’s back… Well, he knew the witcher was aware of it, but it was fun to think otherwise. Ciri was everything he thought a big sister should be, and he loved her very much. And Geralt… he slowed, as he fingered a little medalion as his neck. It was a simple silver disk, large as a thumb nail, with a wolf head engraved in its center. It was a gift from Geralt for their last encounter. He smiled. He thought of the witcher as a father, just as Ciri, but neither of them dared to call him that… It was strange. They had talked about it for long hours, nestled under their covers in their room, but none of them felt ready to try and call Geralt « dad ». Maybe it had changed ? He was so impatient !

The two days were a torture. Time seemed to pass slower than ever, and everyone was boring. Even his books were boring. He longed the long stories Geralt would tell at the inn table, drinking slowly his beer at the most dramatic moments while Yennefer sipped on a spicy wine (and discreetly stealing some of Geralt’s drink), and Ciri and him would forget their apple juice, engrossed in the battles and exploits of the witcher.

When they finally left their home in Vengerberg, Yennefer didn’t have the heart of chiding him for squirming in his saddle. They were travelling with a few merchants and guards for safety, as they couldn’t use a portal in Oxenfurt. And while their pace would be slower than they both liked, she did not want risking facing bandits or a stray monster with her son.

It took them almost five days to reach their destination, and she watched as Jaromir, instead of tiring off, seemed to vibrate more and more as time passed. The company they were travelling with took it with much more patience than she expected, but it might have been because they were a bit afraid of her. One of the merchant was a good story-teller, and Jarek often joined him on his carriage to hear him describe faraway lands that were mostly invented. She suspected him to also teach her son the basics of scam. As Oxenfurt came to view, Jaromir was becoming a jumping ball of energy, and Yennefer was more than ready to leave him with Ciri for an entire day.

The inn where they rented a room was called The Tipsy Scholar and was close to the university bridge, where Jarek was sure to be sent at least a day or two to work. Yennefer was a wonderful mother, but a strict teacher. He looked around his room, the high bed and the small workspace under the window. The floor was of dark wood, covered in colorful rugs and the whole gave an impression of comfort. It was also conveniently at the complete opposite of the room Geralt and his mum would occupy. He had learn pretty soon about sex, and it wasn’t a shameful subject to him. But that didn’t mean he or Ciri would want to hear about their adoptive parents prowess.

As his mind derived to the thoughts of everything he could soon tell to his sister, he didn’t hear the door open in his back.

 

* * *

 

Ciri, a grin on her face, watched her little brother. He was still a midget, but he was growing ! He was still in his classy travel clothes, because of course Yennefer wouldn’t let him dress like a normal kid. But with his regal posture, he kind of looked like a little prince. She stifled a laugh and prepared to pounce.

 

* * *

 

The racket could be heard on the whole floor, with laughter and mock war cries. Geralt knew better than interrupting the kids right now. He felt quite happy with Yen smiling at him for the moment.

— "I trust you had a good trip ? Jarek wasn’t too agitated for you ?"

— "I hope you realise this is whisful thinking, Geralt. I guess Ciri was in the same state."

The man smiled. Oh yes, he had to bear Ciri’s constant reprimands about their pace and how they could go just a bit faster because she really wanted to see her little brother. Hell on both sides, then. He guided her inside their room, deciding they had enough time for themselves before the two little hellions would be ready to join them for dinner.

 

* * *

 

The inn was almost empty. It was a bit after lunch time and people have left to go back to work. The only bustle was of the waitresses cleaning the tables and sweeping the floors. Yennefer and Ciri were out in the city, for a « girl time » as they said. Probably in order to visit the few tailors of Oxenfurt.

Geralt nursed his drink thoughtfully, his eyes not entirely focused on the young boy reading in front of him. His profession didn’t let him see Jarek as often as he would like. He felt a bit of regret each time he received a letter from Yen telling him all the progress her son made. He kept every single one of them, the child’s evolution as important as Yennefer’s. She had taken to her role beautifully, and despite the harsh word of some, no one could deny she was a perfect mother. Little Jaromir was growing to be a fine man, with a sharp wit and remarkable mind. He also possessed a strange sort of innate magic that Yennefer was eager to nurture.

In the privacy of his imagination, he had often imagined having both Ciri and Jarek under his wing, and Yen at his side. A true family without shared blood. This peaceful life couldn’t happen, however, but he still could have part of it…

— "Jarek", he said to catch the boy’s attention. "I have a proposition to make. We’ve talk a lot about it with your mother. We think now might be a good time…" (Jarek was sitting straighter, his green eyes almost shining with anticipation. He smiled at that.) "We were thinking to start expending your education, see. In the winter, you would be with Yen at Vengerberg, for your formal education and starting on magic." (A sharp intake of air at that made him laugh : Jarek had been demanding to learn magic since the day he could speak.) "And in summer… you would come to Kaer Mohren with Ciri and me."

Geralt expected the explosion, and found himself with the arms full of an overexcited child, laughing and babbling how happy he was. He laughed and engulfed Jarek in a bear hug.

Vesemir would never recover from a second wolf-cub.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone ! Sorry for the wait, life kinda got in the way... Found a job, lost a job, looking for a job and changing country...  
> A had a few questions about Jaromir/Jarek : Jarek is simply the diminutive, like Bob for Robert and you'll see both in the story.  
> I hope I didn't make too much mistakes and you'll enjoy this new chapter ! :)

Kaer Morhen was empty, except for Ciri and Jaromir. They were perched on the eastern wall, legs dangling in the void, their eyes watching the forest and the lonely path below.   
“Have you made progress with Igni ?” asked Ciri.   
”I think I got the hang of it, Vesemir told me I was progressing.”   
The girl smiled at her brother and ruffled his hair. She took a look at him, all grown up and now almost as tall as she was. All lithe and swift like a fox, and stronger than anyone could expect at first sight. Geralt had taken great care in that these past years, for both of them.   
“Well, you still have a month and a half because going back to your political funny time !”   
“Hey ! It’s not that bad ! And mum is going to teach me how to make portals ! ”   
Ciri perked up at that, a brilliant smile on her round face.   
“For real ? That’s awesome ! You’d be able to come and go in Kaer Mohren and Vengerberg as you want ! ”   
A neigh, far down the trees caught their attention. Jarek laughed and jumped on his feet, his balance ensuring he’d never fall from the wall.   
“They’re back !”   
With an agility to make envious the best acrobat, they hurtled down the fortifications in the direction of the great gate. Soon enough, two men were crossing the bridge, their horses loaded each with the corpse of a deer.   
“Nice hunt !” exclaimed the children, helping the riders to dismount.   
“Would you mind taking care of the horses, kids ?” asked Vesemir, grunting as he put his deer on the ground. “We’re going inside to take care of the meat.”   
They agreed happily, guiding the tired beasts under the shed that served as a stable. A roan, Harebell, was Vesemir old mare and a bay, was Roach, Geralt’s horse. He had recently bought it to replace his old one, another bay called Roach, who had unfortunately died in a monster attack. This one was a bit nicer than the previous, with a white mark on the nose, and Jarek was quite fond of her. They brushed them vigorously with handfuls of straw, ridding them of their sweat and the deers’ blood, then fed them with fresh hay and a measure of oats.   
The horses satisfied, Ciri and Jaromir strode back to the old castle, the grey stones basked in the soft light of the evening giving it a serene air. It wasn’t late, but the high mountains surrounding the fortress didn’t let them appreciate the full length of the summer days.   
As they stepped inside, the gruff voices of the two witchers arguing about wich amount of meat they should salt or smoke made them smile. They sat at the kitchen table and watched the men they considered the fiercest witchers in history bickering like old wives.   
“We could smoke a bit more, this time.” Tried Jarek, with an innocent smile that the others knew too well. “That way I could practice Igni.”   
Geralt huffed and crossed his arms, but could not erase the smirk on his face seeing the kid trying not to seem too eager to burn stuff. Ciri was thinking the same, but she didn’t manage to keep her giggle down.   
“I warn you, kid, if we have to eat charcoal this winter because you were too enthusiastic, you’ll have to eat your share in Vengerberg to suffer with us.”   
“It’s not going to happen !” protested Jarek, his green eyes wide in fake offense.   
Vesemir chuckled, wiping his hands in a rag.   
“I guess we could let you try, but only for one batch. I will make you work on your control on something else that might not cost us our tastebuds. ”   
With a mock sigh of disappointment, Jarek agreed and joined his sister in her laugh. Geralt watched his two Surprise Children play at the table, the fire from the kitchen’s hearth illuminating their faces. They were both clothed with old witcher apprentices outfits, scratched leather and faded linen, but both looked the happiest on earth. The yellow flames made Ciri’s hair glow while it casted a bloody shine in Harry’s dark mane. It was just long enough to tie it – “At last,” has said Yennefer.   
“Kids, put on the table”, he exclaimed to cover the sound of their game, “we’re eating in a few moments.”

* * *

  
A small cloud of smoke left Geralt lips as he pulled on his pipe. The moon was almost full, and he didn’t need any other light. He let his eyes roam over the mountains, shroud in darkness and the courtyard barely illuminated just under his balcony. Only them four, at hours on horseback from any village. He had no news of Lambert nor Eskel since the end of winter. Not a bad thing, concerning Lambert… He and Jarek were always acting pissy like wet cats when in seeing distance and no one had any idea why.   
Jarek… the boy was growing fast, taking easily to the hard conditions of Kaer Mohren and showed great promises in the different arts. Even Vesemir was impressed with the ease the boy showed with the Signs. Sword and crossbow were quickly becoming an extension of himself. Of course, Ciri was pushing him to give the best, but it couldn’t be the sole reason of his talents. He reminded him of himself. For a short time, in the secret of his own mind, Geralt imagined what prodigy Jaromir would become if he undertook the Trial of Grass. He shook his head. No more suffering. Ciri couldn’t bare the witchers mutations because of her blood, except the most basic ones, wich he didn’t consider a loss. He would do everything to spare them this pain.   
“I have to say, Geralt, your kids are becoming quite impressive.”   
The white wolf turned his head to spot a familiar silhouette. He had been so deep in his thoughts he hadn’t heard the door open.   
“Eskel.”   
“Yeah, happy to see you too.”   
Geralt snorted a laugh and got up.   
“Welcome back, old friend. Been here for long ? ”   
“Just an hour, I met Vesemir on his way to bed and noticed a light under your door.”   
Eskel went to the balcony and surveyed the landscape bathed in the moonlight.   
“So, what about the kids ?” asked Geralt, joining his companion at the guardrail.   
“Ah, yes.” The witcher smiled and chuckled. “I heard them talk in their room, comparing their latest feats. Are you trying to single-handedly revive our school ? For a guy claiming he would never use the Law of Surprise twenty years ago, you’re surprinsigly productive. ”   
A groan answered him, at first. Geralt had hidden his face in his crossed arms, slumped on the stone of the balcony. He patted his back with compassion.   
“It’s not easy.”   
“I can guess. Last time I saw them you had a hard time getting them tired. ”   
“You know”, slowly started Geralt, “I’m okay with how Ciri came to me. I mean, I called the Law and it came back to bite me in the ass. But I don’t understand for Jarek. (He noticed Eskel frowning and raised a hand.) Don’t get me wrong, I love the boy as much as I love Ciri. But you can’t ignore there’s quite the mystery about him : you know how I found him. A baby appears almost at my feet in a sort of magical circle, he’s magical himself, he had a curse attached to him, he had this strange scar on his brow. He can’t be a normal kid. ”   
Eskel bit his lip nervously. It wasn’t often he heard his friend vent that much. He could see his point, though, and with careful words he tried to comfort him :   
“I’m pretty sure it happened for a good reason, youknow. I mean, look at you with Ciri and Jarek. You look like a proud peacock showing them off half of the time, and I hear you more bragging about them than talking about anything else. And they look at you like you’re the answer to the universe and the sun shines through your ass. ”   
“I’m not like that…”   
“The hell you are. Geralt. You are not their master, you’re their father, and they are your kids. It’s a wonder they don’t call you dad already. ”   
Geralt fell silent. His eyes lost in the distance. He remembered something that happened a few years ago, the first summer Jarek was in Kaer Mohren. It was almost midnight, and the children were supposed to sleep, but when he passed in front of their door, he had heard them whispering. He was about to knock and tell them to sleep when he heard it. It was Ciri.   
“Dad told me I’ll be ready to start with steel soon.”   
“That’s so cool ! Do you think I could try too ? ”   
“Don’t be silly, midget,” Ciri giggled,  “we’ll see when you’ll reach my shoulder.”   
“Hey ! Dad told I’m growing fast ! ”   
Geralt had moved away, feeling like a ghost. His throat felt tight.   
He shook his head and looked at Eskel, who was examining him curiously.   
“They do, I think. Between them. ”   
“And why not in front of you ?”   
“Don’t know. Maybe they don’t feel ready… I don’t know Eskel. ”   
They stayed silent for a long time. The groan of a bear echoed from the mountains, followed by the howls of a few wolves.   
“You should take Jarek with you tomorrow”, started Geralt. “ Ask him about his Signs, you’ll have fun. ”   
“You’d let me ?”   
“The kid is some kind of magical prodigy, according to Yen. Pretty sure he’s a prodigy, period. ”   
Eskel smiled and straightened up.   
“I’ll do that. Good night, Geralt. Don’t beat yourself up over the kids, they’ll do their things in their own time. ”   
“Thank you, my friend.”

* * *

  
The rain was pouring, hard and cold for the season. They would swim in the fog for days after that.   
Relishing in the fact they weren’t forced to wander outside to hunt some monsters, everyone was cooped up in the fortress. Ciri, for once happy to read, was huddled in front of the fireplace while Vesemir and Geralt sat in old armchairs were contemplating the flames, lost between meditation and their thoughts.   
Jarek and Eskel had disappeared early in the morning in the large training room under the castle. Faint explosion sounds from Aards were sometimes heard, but no one gave it much attention.   
The day was nearing its half when they finally emerged from the heavy doors, covered in dust and still panting. Eskel was grinning form ear to ear and immediately stood in front of Geralt, hands on his hips and the very image of the proud teacher.   
“The room won’t ever be the same ! Your little sorcerer makes a hell of damage. It’s a sight to behold ! ”   
“The point wasn’t to make Jarek destroy the castle, Eskel,” sighed Geralt, but a smile streched his lips. He brushed his hand in the boy’s already ruffled hair.   
Jarek, still a bit short of breath, was beaming.   
Ciri, who had fallen asleep some time earlier on the pages of her dusty monster glossary, woke up at the sound of their voices and smiled seeing the proud glint in her brother’s eyes.   
“Did ya manage to draw the wolf head with a beam of fire yet ?” she slurred.   
Jaromir snorted.   
“Not yet.”   
“I would like to keep this castle standing for a few more years, please” intervened Vesemir, who, if he was as amused as the others, did a better job of hiding it.   
The young boy agreed with a chuckle and slumped at the table, reaching for a loaf of bread. Eskel joined him, groaning as he sat.   
“I’ll leave as soon as the rain stops,“ he began, but you really should work on your control. “If a Sign like Igni were to escape you, the collateral damages could be something you don’t want on your mind.”   
“I know, I know… it’s really different from what I learn with Mum, but she also trains me on control. She always says I have an ocean worth of power I have to turn in a well. At least here, I can’t break her precious artifacts. ”   
Eskel chewed on his bread pensively, not reacting when Ciri put on a plate full of ham in front of them and slid at Jarek’s side, listening with attention. Her own control was severely lacking, but the Elder Blood in her was even more unknown than her brother’s peculiar magic.   
“Are you practicing meditation ?”   
“Obviously”, huffed the boy with an affronted look, ”I got started at four when Mum needed an excuse to have time for herself. And it’s often, I tell you. ”   
Geralt smirked from his spot, knowing Yen’s patience for children could sometimes be on the short side, even if it was for her own.   
Ciri pressed her shoulder against her brother, discreetly showing him support. They were both exceptional in their abilities and had to suffer the consequences. But they had each other and were helped by equally extraordinary people. She watched as the three witchers discussed their last hunts and the news from the world in hushed voices, heads bent upon the old oak table.   
She wasn’t paying much attention to what they were saying. Jarek was slowly falling asleep in his plateand she gently pushed him up. The young boy groaned something resembling “leave me alone, and she rolled her eyes, dragging him out of the kitchen and toward their dormitory.   
Geralt watched them leave, the shadow of a smile on his lips, ignoring purposefully the chuckles from his companions.   
“Impressive how close they are, huh ?” mused Eskel, observing him over the rim of his goblet.   
“Hah, laughed Vesemir, more like knit as a pack of nekkers.”   
Geralt snorted, finding the comparison curiously fitting. Eskel toyed with his knife a moment, looking toward the entrance of the vast kitchen. The only light came from the fire, dimming as no one had fed it, giving to the room a cavernous feeling. The rain was still pelting the small windows. It seemed autumn had came early.   
“The kid is also trained by Yennefer, right ?”   
“In magic and politics,“ answered his brother in arms. “The latter since he could speak. He obviously doesn’t use much of it here but Yen says he’s quite good. ”   
“Glowing endorsement, coming from her. I know it’s been a decade, but I still can’t wrap my head around the idea of Mommy Yennefer. ”   
A chuckle came from Vesemir, who had gotten up and was cleaning the remnants of their lunch.   
“She’s tough with her lad, but damn, I’ve never seen her this happy since I’ve known her. She’s a good mother. ”   
“Agreed ” groaned Geralt, “and now if you don’t mind, I’ll go and try to make Ciri remember at least a bit of her reading…”   
“And I’ll take a well deserved nap” added Eskel, stretching his arms over his head.   
Vesemir, finding himself alone in the kitchen grabbed the book discarded earlier by Ciri and sat in his armchair by the fire. Sighing in contentment, he let himself enjoy this moment of peace.   
It was almost an hour later that he was suddenly jerked out his contemplation by an unexpected noise : a bird’s screech. He got up on his feet and half-ran to the entryway. The door was closed, and no bird could have made it inside…   
He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw it. An owl, spread on the ground, its feathers ruffled and its beak gaping in anger and panic. It also was in the middle of a burned circle on the floor. Vesemir felt his heart skip a beat as he recalled a certain tale from his friend and old student.   
“Geralt !” he bellowed, his voice urgent, “Come down here, quick ! “   
He immediately picked up the faint sound of boots from the stairs, and waited, watching the owl slowly calming down. It had a letter tied to one of its feet.   
He felt Geralt stop at his side.   
“It’s the same.”   
“It’s just a circle…”   
He watched as Geralt made a prudent step toward the bird, bending a knee to pick it up. The owl hooted with indignation and tried to peck his hand, but the witcher managed to evade the sharp beak. As its attacked failed, the owl seemed to thrust the letter in Geralt face, who delicately untied it. He read the adressed written and frowned.   
“Look.”   
Vesemir took the envelope, noting it was heavy and made of good parchment. The letters, however, left him puzzled.   
“Not a language I know,” he remarked,  “I’ve never even seen this alphabet.”   
The two stood a moment in silence, contemplating the strange letters in bright green ink.   
“We need Yennefer.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a slooooooowwww writer. Sorry for that. :(  
> I hope you'll enjoy this new chapter !

4.

A deep sigh shook Yennefer, and she looked up from her book to watch the flame of her candle. The wax had melted, and the candle had diminished by half since the last time she checked. A frown marred her brow, ever since a witcher and his two apprentices had appeared wet like stray dogs three nights earlier at her door. They had ridden fast from the North, extenuating their horses, a simple letter clutched in Geralt's hand. The somber expression of his eyes had made her worry from the start.

It was the same letter that laid in front of her, impervious to her translation spells and without a clue in her numerous language books. A crackle made her jump and she turned around to see exactly what she had be hoping for.

“Síle. I am glad you answered my call.”

The figure of a black clad woman shimmered in the mirror. Her voice, however slightly distorted, sounded grave.

“Hearing you, Yennefer, asking for help is certainly warrant of my curiosity. What is it I can do for you?”

The dark haired sorceress closed her eyes as to prepare herself.

“I came across a letter, potentially important, in a language unknown to me. I could not translate it by any means.”

“Show me then.”

Yennefer took the parchment and gave another look at the green scrawl, as if it would suddenly make sense and prevent her to ask for help. She pushed it delicately against the mirror and watched her colleague reaction with attention. Síla seemed pensive, one of her hands absentmindedly stroking the pearls of her necklace.

“I do not recognize it either, but I might have a solution for it. Providing an exchange.”

“Obviously. Name your price, Síla.”

The Koviri remained silent a few moments, slightly puzzled. She could see the incredulous arch of an eyebrow, and with evident curiosity (and perhaps amusement), her colleague asked:

“It must be of utmost importance if you are not already bargaining. What makes you forget your own laws, Yennefer?”

Yennefer hesitated, and she knew the researcher's eyes had picked it up. She sighed.

“My son.”

“Ah.” A ghost of a smile drew the severe mouth of the sorceress up. “Only the boy could put you in such a state of dismay. Fine then, for him, I am willing to be lenient in my price. It is not every day I will be graced by the sight of a desperate Yennefer of Vengerberg. Listen to me closely, and do not write it.”

 

* * *

 

“Why would you wear that?” asked curiously Ciri, as Jaromir arranged his belt over his tunic.

“Because when I'm in Vengerberg I better wear my Vengerberg clothes, or else Mum is going to send me in another dimension with a red bottom.” He rolled his eyes and looked at his sister with a pout. “So here I am with my prissy prince attire, as you call it.”

“Heh, she remarked, you even change your speaking!”

“Speech pattern”, he answered with a grin.

They laughed and Jarek took his sister's hand to pull her off the bed where she was sprawled.

“Come, you haven't visited since a few years. I'll show you the garden.”

Ciri hummed and let herself tumble out the comfortable covers. They had spent the last days lazily recovering from their hard ride under the rain and wind from the deep valleys of Blue Mountain, and now the sun was shining through the colored windows of their shared room. Having lived in the old Kaer Morhen for so long, she wasn't used to such luxuries and Yennefer loved to surround herself with precious materials. The walls were lined with dark wood, carved with floral patterns and decorated with fine paintings. She snickered when she caught sight of a portrait. Little Jaromir sure looked grumpy. The real-life model tugged a bit harder on her arm, his green eyes clearly ordering her “not a word on this”.

They opened a small door to the exterior. The garden was enclosed by high walls, much like a cloister. Three of them were of the house and the last separated the domain from a quiet street, making a decent sized square in the middle of the house. Yennefer had made sure it could be seen from every room in her home and took a lot of pride in it. Flowers bloomed in every season, especially a carefully trimmed bush of white mirth whose flowers perfumed even the coldest winter mornings.

Jaromir took a petal between his fingers and crushed it gently.

“With a golem's heart,” he started to recite, “for five measure of white myrtle petal in a measure of dwarven spirit, infused at low fire for an hour will sharpen your speed and improve reflexes.”

“Oh, that's the Blizzard. Have you memorized them all?”

He shrugged. “I guess. It's useful. Actually, Mum's garden is an excellent alchemist's market. Every plant in here can be used.”

Ciri looked around her. The sun was already high in the sky, bathing the red brick walls in light and making the fishes in the small center pond shine like jewels. The fountain at its center gurgled discreetly, and it was the only sound that could be heard beside the slight rumor of the city far away behind the walls. A robin sang a trill and flew of its tree to perch on a chimney, high over their heads. The alleys of clear gravel were perfectly kept, as were the short yews borders tracing a path in the promenade. Everything seemed perfectly in place, tidy and cataloged.

“It's weird, you know”, she remarked, “it's so different from Kaer Morhen. I like this place, but I don't think I would be at my ease living here. You adapted to both places pretty easily.”

She turned to look at her adoptive brother, clad in fine clothes, the neckline of his shirt embroidered, the velvet of his jacket worth certainly the price of a decent sword. Even his hair was tamed in a neat ponytail, showing his face devoid of any smudge of dirt or soot. She met his eyes, which seemed to search for something. After a short moment, with a solemn expression she wasn't familiar with, he begun:

“You know, I don't really care where I am. I am more interested in being with my family, which is you, Geralt and Yennefer. I don't know where I was born, I don't know who my parents were, but I know who raised me and who I grew up along. The rest is just decor.”

A smile broke on Jarek's face, reminding how young he was and Ciri engulfed him in a hug. She refused to acknowledge the prickling in her eyes.

“You're my family too. With who else could I ever trade weird magic experiences?”

“Well, you're the one with interdimensional powers and I'm supposedly born in a different world, so I guess we fit pretty well.”

 

* * *

 

Yennefer watched the children laugh from her window, her fingers tracing the curve of a crystal on her desk. She had a lot to do, and not much time. She heard fabric ruffling behind her and turned to examine Geralt. Her lover was sprawled on the bed, not having felt any necessity to put on any clothes back. He was studying a map of the region, frowning or humming from time to time. As he was focused on the task, she indulged in detailing the body she had kissed and caressed a moment before.

They both weren't adept at public demonstration of affection and kept to themselves. Behind closed doors, however… She sighed slightly, satisfied and decided to ignore anything to do with vows and djinns.

Another sigh, much deeper, came from the bed and Geralt got up, slowly, the drapes pooling around his hips. He looked at her in silence for a moment, relishing in the view.

“I'm pretty sure of my path, I crossed every information possible. I'll go and prepare; I'll be on my way in an hour.”

“Good. We must hurry. When do you think you'll be back?”

“Never know”, shrugged Geralt, “but it will be three days at best. I guess we can be grateful Síla made her recipe so I can find everything in the region.”

“Yes, I suppose we can thank her.” Yennefer's tone was clipped, but they both knew the sorceress had offered them the only lead they had.

She took a step and traced a scar on her lover's stomach.

“You should go now”, she whispered.

Geralt huffed with a slight smile.

“I guess I should."

 

* * *

 

Jaromir was trying his best not to show his impatience. He didn't want the woman in front of him to notice anything, it could be detrimental to the situation. He knew his mother was starting to get irritable too, only because he knew her well. He leant back to avoid a flurry of satin and lace coming form another pompous movement of her exotic feathers fan. The heavy scent of her perfume almost made him gag.

The woman, coming from a rich family in Toussaint, had spent the past hour jumping from subtly insulting Yennefer's capacity to solve her problem to begging her to do something without letting her place a word. She had come all the way from her “wonderfully exquisite estate” to get advice in a sensitive commercial matter (involving a great deal of magically grown vineyards) and was apparently disappointed to get advice from another woman.

She had launched herself in yet another tirade, ranting about how her servants where all scheming against her when he snapped:

“Madam, I think you might want to make yourself acquainted with the new commercial decisions taken last month between Kovir and Temeria concerning commercial restrictions in elvish grown products. It would certainly be beneficial for your trading targets.”

Annabelle de Clairvoy straightened up and opened her fan in a sharp gesture. Her cheeks turned red and her eyes seemed to bulge from her face in a comical offense.

“And what a child can know about such a precious trade?” she spluttered.

Jaromir felt his mother's eyes on him, but knew she was waiting to see how he would take on the challenge. He took a breath and looked straight into his client’s eyes:

“About trading”, he began with the steady voice of a scholar he had cultivated since childhood, “I know every law passed since the last three decades. I am also well versed in the political maneuvers taken since Cintra tried their best to take over Toussaint’s wine market.”

Clairvoy lowered her fan, revealing the pinched line of her mouth. Her look became sharp, much like a hawk.

“Very well, then, boy. What is your advice.”

 

* * *

 

The cave was nasty. Full of wraiths, angry and howling in the crumbling corridors, never letting him time to catch his breath.

Nevertheless, the crystal was safe in his pouch, and Geralt was ready to go back. The elven gold had been difficult too, but in another sense: he had to bargain a long time with a she-elf, who looked at him with disgust and fear, and switched between languages to confuse him. She had led him in a few wild goose chases before accepting to put the merchandise on the table. It had been terribly expensive, but Yennefer had given him quite the sum to cover this kind of costs. The numerous plants, fortunately, were a walk in the park.

He groaned as another ghost screeched in the shadows. His silver sword was dripping with oils, and Yrden never left his lips. As the golden evening light began to filter from outside, and he knew that it had been dusk when he entered, the witcher let out a deep sigh. He emerged exhausted, but with the satisfaction of a good hunt and the pleasure to see Roach grazing peacefully under the trees.

“Good girl”, he murmured as he tapped her neck. The mare barely flicked an ear back at him, and he laughed, picking provisions from the saddle bags. Bread, salted beef and three wild apples he had picked on a young tree the day before, forgotten by animals and birds. He felt he owed himself a correct meal, for lack of an inn in the vicinity.

The grass was thick under his back, and he felt his conscience drift as he munched on a sliver of dried meat. He let his mind wander to those who were waiting for his return. He thought of Ciri, her growing abilities and strength, the power she held but could not control. The fates she will have to choose. He thought of Jaromir, little Jarek he found in the forest, his curious, foreign magic, and the weight of mystery surrounding his arrival in this world. The possibility of unveiling it.

He thought of Yennefer, their link and the love he had for her. Of maybe thought he had. He sighed, and rolled on his side, picking a few strands of grass between his fingers. The smell of dew was refreshing after such a long time in the caves, and he decided to let those reflections for another time. He was happy with his lot, even if it was a surprising and odd one.

The sun was lowering behind the trees when he decided to move. Roach wasn't terribly happy about it, but Geralt knew wolves were hunting in the region and he wasn't interested in becoming their prey. The closest village, or whatever could be called a place where a few poor wretches dwelled, was a three hours ride away. It wasn't worth the effort. With some luck, and a bit of good grace from his mare, he could be in Vengerberg in two days. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the fresh evening air, smelling the sweetness of resin, the musk of wandering beasts and the wet earth Roach threaded on. A faint smile soothed the usually hard lines of his face. He felt a bit like he was heading home.

 

 


End file.
